


Of Shadows and  Light

by A_Farnese



Series: Penumbra- Missing Scenes [3]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: happy Lancelot, happy Merlin, wedding after party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-28
Updated: 2015-06-28
Packaged: 2018-04-06 13:40:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4223787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Farnese/pseuds/A_Farnese
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are plenty of things to to happy about on the day of Arthur and Guinevere's wedding, but at the end of the day the knights find one more reason to celebrate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Shadows and  Light

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place at the end of "What's a Heaven For?", and isn't so much of a missing scene as it is a scene presented from a slightly different point of view. 
> 
> Disclaimer: Merlin and its characters are not mine, no money is being made from this.

 

"My little sister," Elyan began, "is . . . My little sister. My little sister is Queen of Camelot. My. Little. Sister. Queen Guinevere." Elyan buried his face in his hands. "I used to rub leaves in her hair."

Lancelot laughed with the others, but when it trailed off, he wiped the smile from his face. It felt too disappointed, too bitter, even, to be a real smile. The others were ignoring him anyway, too wrapped up in their own celebrations to notice him hovering in the shadows, pondering the what-might-have-beens the day had swept away.  _Queen Guinevere_. In another world, she might have become his wife, been called Lady instead of Queen, but now… " _Don't think on it anymore. You had your chance to stay and win her heart. You chose to go, to not come between them. Leave the past in the past_." He couldn't blame Guinevere for choosing Arthur. What woman wouldn't choose King Arthur, the best of men, over a scruffy knight from across the sea?

He banished the gloomy thoughts and turned his attentions elsewhere, to Merlin, who also lurked in the shadows. He did that so often of late, as though the darkness he saw had manifested, turning to a cloak of melancholy shadow that wrapped around him always. There were days the sorcerer seemed less human and more ethereal, as though he belonged to the realm of the fae creatures from Under the Hill, or to the old gods. Right now, though, Merlin looked like a mere mortal, sprawled out in Lancelot's only comfortable chair with Cabal at his side. His fingertips were pressed to his temples, and his face was pinched with pain. "Are you all right?" Lancelot asked and he settled into a borrowed chair.

Merlin turned his head toward the knight and gave him a wan smile. The shadows shifted, emphasizing the dark circles under his eyes. "I'm fine. Just tired. It's been a long day."

Lancelot smirked. He'd expected that answer. "It has been long, hasn't it? But a good day on, on the whole," he said, playing along with the notion that it was the day's excitement causing Merlin's headache, and not a lingering effect of his old injuries. Lancelot grabbed the pitcher from his bedside table and poured a cup of water, setting it back with a quiet  _thunk_. "There's some water if you want it. Or do you just want to get away from this noisy lot and get some sleep?"

"No, I like the company. Besides. Gaius went to bed ages ago, and he snores. I'm fine where I am. If I fall asleep in my chair, just poke me with a stick in the morning and tell me to go away," Merlin said. He took a long breath and dropped his hand on Cabal's head, absently scratching the hound's ears. "You don't have to play nursemaid, you know. I'm perfectly fine."

"You're always trying to convince me of that," Lancelot said. "It hasn't quite worked yet. And anyway. It's quieter over here. None of them wants to bother you and risk getting turned into a toad."

That prompted the smile he was looking for. "I wouldn't turn them into toads," Merlin protested. "Not for long, anyway. Arthur would insist I go and find replacements, and Guinevere would be upset that her brother was all bumpy and greenish. I don't want to hear from an upset Guinevere."

Indeed not. Lancelot grinned. "And I appreciate the fact that you're not going to fill my room with toads. I'll be right back." He had a headache remedy in the cabinet across the room. If Merlin wouldn't go to find rest elsewhere, then the least he could do was to offer some sort of aid. He brushed past the others on the way over to the cabinets, quickly shuffling through their contents before he found the little bottle of powdered white willow bark. Gaius had given it to him last week, after Arthur unhorsed him in the final round of jousting. He hadn't blacked out when he hit the ground but his ears rang for a long time after, and the headaches came and went for another two days.

When he looked back, bottle in hand, Merlin was reaching toward a candle, his fingers less than a handsbreadth from the little flame. Curiosity lit his face, turning to bright glee even as he jerked his hand away from the candle. His eyes were fixed in front of him as he reached toward the light again.

"Careful there, Merlin. You'll burn yourself on that candle." Gwaine was unsteady on his feet as he crossed the short distance from the table to the chair across from Merlin, but his eyes were clear and as filled with concern as Lancelot's own must have been. " _Is something wrong?"_ The other knight mouthed. Lancelot shrugged.

"I'm fine," Merlin whispered, "I'm definitely fine." As often as they'd heard that refrain, though, it was difficult to believe him. Especially when his eyes were fever-bright, as though he'd seen his gods in the candlelight. Lancelot had seen such expressions before, in the eyes of the mendicant priests he'd come across in his wanderings. Such fervent men were never comfortable to be around.

"It's just a candle, Merlin. That's all," Gwaine said gently as he dropped into the empty chair before Lancelot could.

"It's the best candle in the world, Gwaine."

"I'll bite," Lancelot said. "Why is the best candle in the world?" The others had stopped talking and were gathering around, drawn by the wariness in Lancelot's stance.

A brilliant smile spread across Merlin's face, shining as brightly as any summer dawn. "It's the best candle in the world because I can see it." His laughter was giddy, filled with a near-forgotten joy. "I can see it," he whispered again, tears shining in his eyes as they focused -focused!- on the candle.

"You're sure? It's not…" Lancelot trailed off. ' _It's not your mind playing tricks on you, is it?'_ He'd almost said. Behind him, the others whispered to each other excitedly, grabbing onto the hope that the sorcerer might be fully healed at last. It was tempting, so tempting to reach for it, too, but frightening as well. What if it was just his imagination?"

"I'm sure," Merlin said. "I haven't completely forgotten what light is."

"No. Of course not," Lancelot whispered. The pieces clicked into place as he thought back over the day, how Merlin had winced when the afternoon sun flared through the windows of the great hall, and his glassy gaze kept lighting, sparrow-like, on the candelabras and their collections of candles. His headache, it would seem, had come not from being overtired, but from the effort of long unused eyes trying to focus for the first time in half a year. A slow smile spread across Lancelot's face as he knelt at Merlin's side and rested a hand on the sorcerer's arm. "Should I get Gaius? Or… anyone?"

"No," Merlin smiled, glancing toward him, then back at the candle, as though he'd be content to spend a lifetime staring at the little flame. "No, don't get anyone. It's fine. Everything's fine. Of course it's fine. It may just be a lighter bit of gray, but it's there. I can see."


End file.
